Finding an Idea !
by Saule Newell
Summary: If there was something that Jim Moriarty had in horror, it was somebody lying to him, so after this mess of Sherlock's, he obviously wanted a revenge. But locked in a room, just the two of us and with only one weapon, Jim and Sherlock had no idea of how Jim would take this revenge.


Jim Moriarty was pacing up and down in the tiny room, seaming to think about something, looking for an idea. He had so much in reserve for this kind of occasion that he didn't knew which one was to choose. He suddenly stopped and faced Sherlock, his eyes vibrant of a bad energy. He observed his enemy a moment. Sherlock Holmes was stood up before him, only Jim knew the way to get out of the room, which required a pass code well hidden in the deepest of his mind, and there was nobody but them in this place. So how, while his enemy was defenceless and while Jim only had a gun, could he pull off to get his revenge ? If Watson would have been there, perhaps it could have been amusing to force Sherlock to kill him, but... no, no ! it was too easy, this kind of idea didn't look like him.

''Sherlock, would you help me instead of staring at me with this look ?''

The interested raised an eyebrow, guessing the object of Moriarty's request.

''Well, you want to torture me, is that it ?''

Him raised his head with a grin, glad to see that his enemy was clever enough to get the point of his asking.

''Sorry, I have no idea. Or maybe I have one but I don't think you would appreciate it.''

''I can't deal with a lie, Sherlock, you see. Oh, for this one I know it was not a lie, the few ideas you can possibly have on the question have not so much chance to get my interest...''

''I probably know much more methods of torture that you could imagine'' interrupted Sherlock.

''Yes but you never went to the practice, did you ?'' replied Jim with a sharp movement of the hand to get rid of Sherlock's words. ''But the lie that I didn't like from you was to pretend to be dead. Ah, this, no no no this... I didn't like it.''

''You did the same thing.''

''Yes but _I_ tricked you, it's me who have arrange all the event, so _I_ have the right to lie. Let's be brief, I need to find something. Come on, don't be so boring, do something for God's sake.''

Sherlock grinned, and then, surprising Moriarty, he said :

''You think you have only one gun on your side so you can't think of a way whatsoever to use it, you might shoot me but it doesn't ''look like you'', it is not elegant enough, you prefer the mental torture. Whence you don't just have a simple gun because you've also got your mind. But here, there's a glitch, cause you know who you have to cope with and improvisation is not your strong point whereas it is mine. The last time you did improvise was the one when you faked you death, very bad of you, you could have died. If the sound of the gun was very plausible what betrayed you then was the the pocket filled with blood on your back. When you fell down it blew up, like intended, and the liquid that you versed in your mouth worked very well passing yourself off as dead, but the plastic pocket, exploding, left its fibres strewn on the ground, that's how I noticed it. Happily for you the noise of the gun was high enough for one of your friends to come soon and give you the antidote for what you had swallowed. I could have kill you but I'm not a murderer, in spite of what the Yard's ridiculous cops were thinking...''

''Were ?'' noticed Jim.

''Anyway, all this to say that it was well calculating (why did I say it was improvisation ? stupid of me), so in improvisation you're not very good, forgive me to say it. But I can prove to you once more that I am, if you like, do you ?''

''I look forward.''

''You affirmed that the code you were typing, this binary rhythm, was nothing but a music, didn't you ? But you couldn't help yourself of making it a little more spicy. Truly you are all the same. Can't prevent you from choosing codes that I can deduce because you've already told me them, so silly of you. At last, there's a bug at every corner of the ceiling, and there are no buttons, even tactile, on the walls so this code is for being told. Not pronouncing every one and zero, it would take ages, but by reproducing the noise. So to type this rhythm on one of those walls would produce a sound in every of its fibres, echoing to the bugs. So we are on an equal footing because none of your men is outside this door.''

Sherlock headed to a wall and typed the rhythm.

''Yet you seem to forget a detail, Moriarty.''

''Oh, and which one ?'' Jim asked, smirking but angry.

Sherlock smiled while the door was slowly opening.

A gunshot made Jim jump, and he turned back straight away. He rapidly loose his smirk seeing DI Lestrade heading a group of thirty armed men.

''_My_ men are right here...''

The End.

I hope you enjoyed this short text ! I French so forgive me if I made some mistakes or weird sentences – which I probably did. Anyway, if you liked or didn't tell me why, I would be pleased to read some reviews :)

Saule Newell


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